“True. But I get bored with nothing to do.”
I sigh. There is no getting rid of her. “Oh, come then. But just leave me alone.”
She gives a small dip of her head. It is the best I can hope for. I suppose I am lucky only she was awake. I am pretty sure Furian would have insisted on coming too if he had been there.
Within seconds we are up into the fresh morning air. The South Pole of Hethor gets very hot during the day, but the nights are chillier.
The stars are still just visible ... the largest of them. But the darkness is giving way to a dark blue and sunrise will be soon.
I drop Zivan off by the cave where the Scoriats are recovering, and point to a rocky outcrop about a hundred yards away. “I shall be over there. That will give me a better view of the horizon. If you see Torch, tell him where I am, will you?” The last of the firehorns disappear as I ask them to leave us.
She inclines her head again before ducking to pass inside the cave.
I run quickly over to the outcrop. I have to scramble a bit to climb to the top. It is a large escarpment, where the rock curves like curtains against the backdrop of the rough sandy terrain. On the top is a huge flat stone, which makes the whole thing appear like the head and beak of some ancient giant bird. I am aiming for that summit, which is flattened and commands a wonderful view of the surrounding area. It will mean scaling the lateral folds of the rock – smooth and not easy to negotiate – but I am pretty sure it will be worth it in the end. I could go all the way around, because the rock looks to be accessible from the other flank, but it also looks a long way. There is a small gap in the flattened capstone, and I head in that direction. I can slip through that gap and up onto the large slab which overhangs the valley. This is going to be an impressive way to start the day. The light breeze which comes up as the sun chases away the colder night is caressing my skin. It is a truly poetic place. A great place to watch the dawn. I can’t help smiling.
I wonder where Torch is. He probably left already. Maybe I should have come earlier.
But it doesn’t matter. This whole area is suffused with an orange glow as the suns come up. It is very beautiful. I climb on. This is great. I should do it every day.
Graven is inside the cave. He has been waiting for some twenty minutes but is now ready to move. The Thrall has been smelling the Scoriats for many miles. The enticing smell of their blood. He knows that several of them are badly injured. He can tell. Better if they are injured; he is hungry again, and he is tired. Despite his huge stamina, it has taken him great sacrifice to reach this place. Just traversing the two immense scars dividing the continent was a challenge, even for him. He needs sustenance. The Scoriats will do nicely. From the scent of their blood they will not be in a condition to put up much of a fight. And there are quite a few of them. They will keep him going, at least for a while.
One small being has already abandoned the campsite. The Thrall had to wait until it did. It was accompanied by many of the small animals they call skulks. The skulks have almost as good a sense of smell as he does. And they can attack, too. Graven dislikes skulks. They are a nuisance. It was definitely better to wait until they left. He wants to get at these Scoriats easily. He really does require flesh. He is actually aching with the need for sustenance.
He erupts into the cave with one bound. The air inside seems to shudder with his appearance. There are immediate cries.
The Thrall stops dead. His nostrils flare. There is the essence of a girl too. That is unexpected. It is not his girl, but it is definitely the softer scent of a female. He is pleased. That is an unexpected bonus. Her presence had been masked by that of a Scoriat, who is currently standing in front of her, determined to protect her.
Graven makes a pounce to the right. His jaws slash down on one of the most injured Scoriats and in one movement he rips the throat out of the prone figure. The man dies without a gasp.
Graven chews on the flesh, blood dripping down from the huge mouth. His cloudy eyes are peering around in the semidarkness of the cave. There are still screams. He swallows, then slashes out to the left. In one swift tearing motion he removes the throat of a second sick Scoriat. Two. That is enough to be going on with. He chews some more.
The Scoriat defending the girl is trying to retreat. Graven’s cloudy eyes fixate on him. He will be the next one to encounter the teeth.
The Scoriat is holding a blaster in front of him. The Thrall gives a low growl. Such a weapon will not kill, but it will cause pain. The girl is cowering behind the dark Scoriat and now others are edging behind him too. His aim is steady. He knows that he is about to die, but he is brave. He will die with courage.
Graven’s huge mouth slavers a little more. It is time. The blaster will deter but will not prevent. He licks his lips.
But there is a new scent. Another female, close behind him, approaching from the entrance.
Graven is shocked into immobility. Because, behind the new scent, he can smell her. He can smell the girl he has been following for so long. He freezes. He begins to sniff at the air, his nostrils twitching.
Koban is pushing Ammeline back, back into a small cleft in the rock, back to safety. The others are jostling feebly to put themselves furthest away from the intruder.
The Thrall is unaware of these things going on around him. His nostrils are flaring. His cloudy eyes are distant. He turns his head.
The woman between him and the exit has only a small knife. For some reason, she is refusing to run from the danger. The Thrall rumbles past her, ignoring the small stab in his side as she forces the weapon into his hide, with all her meager force. The knife hardly penetrates. Graven swipes at the woman, who is catapulted up and out of his path. As she is thrust aside, he snaps at the nearest part of her body. His teeth rip along her arm and shoulder, narrowly missing her neck. She collapses behind Graven, who pauses a moment, considering whether or not to go back.
But the scent he has been following for months is within reach. With every step he takes toward the edge of the cave the perfume of her skin is getting stronger. This cannot be ignored. The obsession is too deep, the brain of the Thrall is too overprinted by her. The molecules of her odor bind to Graven’s receptors, initiating an electrical signal that travels from the sensory neurons to its olfactory bulb.
It causes an explosion of the Thrall’s senses. Graven can do nothing else but race toward the source of this craving. Nothing else matters; he has found the girl. He has found her. And she is near.
He tries to make himself wait, to finish off these small opponents, but the craving is too strong. The Thrall cannot wait. He has to inhale more of that hypnotic scent she gives off. He cannot stop himself.
He rockets out of the cave and stands in the first rays of sun which are beginning to touch Kelfor.
The cloudy eyes track around, following the busy nostrils. At last he sees her. She is high up, sitting on a smooth slab of rock, her knees tucked up under her chin, staring at the sunrise.
The Thrall has never moved faster in his life.
The sunrise is so bright. It is making me forget all the troubles we have faced, all that we still have to face. When I close my eyes, the light bathes my closed lids in a red wash. It is gentle, renewing. It makes me convinced that we all have a future, even if the ancients did leave us to perish under the Raths. I make myself breathe slowly. In. Out. It is a cathartic exercise. All of my tight muscles relax.
I hear distant cries which impinge gradually on my perception. My shoulders drop. I really don’t want to let go of the peace I am experiencing. This moment is too precious. But the cries continue. They seem to hold danger.
I open my eyes, peering down from my vantage point on the flat rock down to the valley below. First, I see Zivan. She is running toward me, shouting. One arm is hanging uselessly against her side. She is using her good arm to pin the damaged one to her side as she runs. Her gait is unsteady, unlike her usual agile pace.
I wave back, but she is still shouting. Koban is sprinting
after her, and behind them I see Jethran appear from the mouth of a cave further away. He has begun to run after Zivan, too.
I frown.
Then I hear it.
There is a scrabbling below me. Something is coming up the steep slope. Something that can move much more quickly than I can. Something that Zivan is warning me about.
There is nothing I can do. I am at the very edge of the flat rock, and the noise is already reaching the plateau immediately behind me. As I turn, the huge body of the Thrall hauls itself to the rock where I am standing. I am cut off. There is nowhere for me to go.
Something shudders inside my chest. My heart is trying, like me, to escape. Neither of us is going to have much success. My only way is down, and the drop will surely kill me. Better, much better than waiting for Graven to reach me. I step slowly further and further back, facing the Thrall as it approaches. Stupidly, I put my hands up. I don’t know what good I think that is going to do. My legs begin to give way. The Thrall is so very much bigger than me. The rock I am standing on judders as it advances.
But it stops. Stands about five feet in front of me, its gigantic mouth half open. I can see row upon row of teeth inside. It has stopped to inhale deeply.
Its eyes – still as cloudy as goat’s milk – are half closed. The lids are heavy. And those nostrils are quivering as they take in the air slowly. It seems to be remembering my smell, reliving our presentation.
The lids open again. It smiles at me. “I knew I would find you.”
I squeak. Actually, I was trying to say something blasé and witty, but it simply doesn’t work out that way.
“I am a Thrall. Nobody takes away our things. It is not permitted.”
I am right on the edge of the rock already. I pray that I am high enough up to be killed by the fall. To be only maimed would be a bitter irony.
Graven is taking another step toward me now. It is done savoring the moment. As one of its massive feet moves to close the distance, mine moves back, seeking the emptiness of the drop just behind me.
But I never take that fatal step.
There is a flurry of movement behind the Thrall. Then the skulks, in a ragtag circle, surround the huge figure.
Graven stops and stares at the skulks. He lunges at one, but these are animals. They are faster than their two-legged counterparts. They duck back out of its reach, not without a few yelps of fear. The Thrall swivels round. The skulks behind it rush outward in a wave.
Then I see a small figure standing at the rear of the circle of skulks. He is tiny against the Thrall, but he is facing the creature with his shoulders straight.
Torch can’t speak. He doesn’t have to. I hear the words as clearly as if he has pronounced them. “First you will have to go through me.” With immense dignity he moves to shield me from Graven.
Graven’s teeth gape open in derision. “You? You are nothing. A child.”
Torch straightens up even more. He gives a snarl. This is taken up by the skulks. All of them bare their teeth at the enormous intruder.
The Thrall’s cloudy eyes flicker. “I don’t think so.”
Torch gives a slightly interrogative moan, as if to say ‘Oh, don’t you?’. He begins to creep toward the Thrall, his sharp dagger held firmly in front of him, trying to put himself closer to this immense target.
He tilts his head slightly to meet my stunned gaze as he steps nearer to Graven. He raises his hand slowly and meaningfully to his throat, pulling down on an imaginary chain. Then his eyes pierce mine with some sort of message.
I don’t understand him. The Thrall is holding me mesmerized. I bring my foot back from the empty air behind me and place it again on the rock.
Torch thumps his chest. He mutters something. Something so important that he is trying to articulate it. “Mmmmtttt!!” His face contorts with frustration. “Mmmmlltttt!!”
Then he runs out of time. The Thrall is leaping toward him.
I realize what he is trying to tell me.
Torch ducks only a little to one side and wields the knife. The skulks attack the Thrall’s legs.
For a few eternal seconds there is pandemonium.
My fingers manage to pull my amulet from my tunic. Of course! The amulet! Torch doesn’t even know what it holds, yet he has somehow sensed that the locket will help. I rip it apart with shaking hands and make a grab for the lone firehorn nestling inside, for Seraph.
Three of the skulks are batted to their death in one almost lazy stroke of Graven’s open hand. They do not even have time to cry out. The others do as they scatter and then regroup fluidly between me and the Thrall.
Graven is confused momentarily, but it still focuses on the immediate danger ... Torch.
Torch realizes his peril, but has left it too late to do anything about it.
A rock comes out of nowhere and hits Graven on the right side of its face. It shakes its head to clear it. A cry of glee follows the hit.
I look beyond the fight.
Zivan’s head is visible at the other end of the flat rock. She is being hoisted up to my level by Koban, who pulls himself up behind her. He is followed by Jethran. Blood is pouring out of a gash on Zivan’s arm.
Seraph has latched onto my finger. Gradually more of the firehorns are joining him.
I step forward and grab Torch’s hand. He turns, sees the beginnings of the firehorns, and jerks his head at the Thrall. When I frown, he becomes irritated. He points down and makes dropping motions.
The dumb terror which has stopped my thought processes clears. Of course! Now I see what must be done.
I let go of Torch’s hand.
He looks taken aback. His eyes open wide and he shakes his head. He opens his mouth and a hard cry comes out, shocking his skulks as well as me.
But I know what I must do, and there is no reason to risk Torch as well.
I feel the firehorn mantle slipping into place over my skin.
I walk straight up to Graven, and deliberately grasp its muscular wrist with both my hands.
The Thrall stops dead in its tracks. It was about to attack Torch. It doesn’t. It turns to me.
I stand passively, but I can feel the tiny firehorns locking into place. Already they are moving up the thick arm. Soon they will cover the Thrall from head to foot.
Graven has lowered its head to my neck. Its face is only inches from mine. Its eyes are now completely clouded over, and its nostrils are flaring.
I can’t wait much longer. I know that those incisors are only moments away from my jugular vein. I plead mentally with the firehorns to hurry. I can see nothing else except the Thrall. Those teeth. They smell awful. My own stomach is retching. I almost want to die, but I know that I can’t. Not yet, anyway. I have to ... have to take the Thrall away from my friends. I have to make sure that it can never kill anything else ever again. I must. It is my ... and only my ... obligation. I owe the others this.
So I am transfixed by the proximity of those fangs, but my mind is screaming at the firehorns to hurry.
And, just as its jaw begins to close around my neck, the mantle reaches Graven’s feet.
I wish us both back in the vortex.
We are there.
Its huge mouth, so close now to my flesh that the skin has been torn and blood is drenching out, pauses.
The eyes open. They look around it.
They widen.
I let us fall, down through the whirlpool of firehorns. Then I take my hands away from its wrist. We are still tumbling side by side, but I am out of range. I am safe.
The milky eyes register what I have done. They watch, with some interest, as the firehorns all around its body begin to disappear.
And then they register what is happening.
Graven gives a terrible scream. Anger and frustration. I cannot hear fear. The sound reverberates around in my head.
The Thrall now has no firehorns to protect it.
I watch, slowing my own trajectory until I am stationary. I have no idea how far the ch
asm reaches. I do know that the Thrall will never survive the fall.
Its arms are open, stretching toward me, trying to reach me.
Its figure plummets down so fast that within three seconds it is already little more than a small line against the fiery walls of Kelfor.
I am left alone with my firehorns.
I pass out for a short time.
19.
I come to after what feels like some minutes. It could have been longer. I don’t know. I just know that the Thrall is dead, and that I am safe. We are all safe.
I ask the firehorns to take me to the tree bridge, where I find Furian waiting. He and Jethran saw me fall past with the Thrall and they have been on tenterhooks ever since.
Furian grabs at me and points speechlessly at my neck. I put a hand to it and find that it comes away covered in blood.
He picks me up bodily and runs with me to the cave with Jethran running alongside. He deposits me beside Karith. Jethran and Linnith begin to tend to the slashes across my neck.
There is no time for all this. “I ... I have to get back up there. Torch ... Zivan ... they will be worried about me.”
Furian nods. “We will all go as soon as we can. But those cuts must be attended to.”
“Zivan! ... Zivan is hurt too.”
“We will take first aid up with us. Shush! This will only take longer if you make a fuss.”
I submit. They are, after all, only trying to help. Not that I could have stopped them. They are all white-faced. I tell them about the Thrall. I explain that it is dead.
“We know.” Furian is tight-lipped. “We saw what happened.”
“I am all right.”
His whole face is rigid. “You nearly got yourself killed! You are very far from all right.”
“I ... why are you all so cross with me?”
“Because you shouldn’t have simply taken off like that. Don’t you realize that now we all depend on you?”
I hadn’t. Not until now. I begin to see. If I had jumped off that rock up there, then I would have been condemning all of them to certain death. They could never have got back along the tunnels past the Forest of Flame, not after the cave-in. They would have been trapped forever in the Chasm of Kelfor.
Kelfor- the Orthomancers Page 30